


Value Meal

by leiascully



Series: Ronald McDonald, Matchmaker [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Fast Cars, Fast Food, Multi, OT3, Really Important Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: "Is this another weird Parker life lesson?" Eliot asks.  "About goddamn Happy Meals?"
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: Ronald McDonald, Matchmaker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081850
Comments: 26
Kudos: 87





	Value Meal

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S5, after Happy Meal  
> A/N: For **coffeesuperhero** , who said, "So when are you writing a sequel?" And then, eventually, I did.

Parker's not in a duct this time. She's waiting in the car. More specifically, she's waiting in the driver's seat of the car she hotwired. It's sleek and expensive and has more horsepower than anything needs. She kind of loves it. She revs the engine a little just to hear it roar under the hood. 

"Parker, quit," Eliot tells her. "I can't hear anybody coming with you making all that racket."

She revs it again, just a little, so he'll know he's not the boss of her. "Now you're the one talking," she says. "They'll hear you instead of you hearing them." 

"Baby, knock it off," Hardison says. "Some of us are trying to focus here."

"Who's baby?" Eliot snarls, but quietly.

"Y'all are both baby," Hardison tells him. "This is a known fact. Y'all, baby. And baby, y'all are both making too much noise right now. How's a man supposed to concentrate on his very important coding? Don't worry about disturbing Hardison, he's only trying to coordinate six different subroutines at once so we get the money, get the files, lock them out, and lock them in. Into the building, I mean. Out of the computers. Whatever, you get it, I'm busy."

"Just keep typing," Eliot mumbles.

"Us baby," Parker whispers.

Nate groans. "Can we please, please, please use the comms to talk about the job and only the job?"

"Nate, I think you might be part of the problem," Sophie says. "I seem to recall a number of occasions where you tried to argue with me over the comms when I clearly knew what I was doing. Not to mention the irrelevant narration."

Nate growls but stops talking. Parker keeps her foot on the gas, but doesn't press down. She's ready. She gets really calm in these moments, usually. She's done everything she can do to prepare. She's fast and light and she's sitting on a tank full of fuel and a big engine. The moment before everything happens is all about balance, and she's always had good balance. Parker waits. 

Hardison tumbles out of the front door of the building they just rewired to lock everyone in with Eliot right behind him. Eliot slides into the front seat; Hardison takes the back, stretching his long legs across to brace against the other door.

"Go!" he says, and Parker guns it. The tires squeal and they're gone, leaping down the road.

"Now we've got some fuckin' giddyup," Eliot says admiringly. Hardison laughs from the backseat.

"Yeah, baby!" he says, and drapes his arm over the back of the seat and, coincidentally, over Eliot's shoulder. Eliot doesn't shrug it off. 

"Where are you?" comes Nate's voice over the comms, smooth and cool.

"We're on the highway," Parker tells him.

"We're headed to the highway," Hardison corrects, and Parker rolls her eyes, shifts gears, and slams through a light that's about to be red. 

"We're basically on the highway," she says. 

"You know where to meet us," Nate says.

"Roger," Parker tells him. 

"Actually," Nate says as she merges onto the highway without looking, "we don't have anything right now, do we, honey?"

"Free as a couple of birds," Sophie says in her best pretty little wife voice. "Oh, dinner? Absolutely." 

"Nate, I'm gonna turn you down so you can work," Hardison says, "but holler if you need anything."

"Sounds perfect," Nate says warmly, and Hardison fiddles with his phone. Nate and Sophie's voices go a little quieter, but not so quiet they can't be heard. Parker kind of likes it. It's like they're in the next room, talking softly. It makes Parker think about movies about other kids' Christmases. It's cozy somehow. 

"Well," Hardison says, "looks like we're off the hook for a little while. What should we do?"

"I could eat," Eliot says. "Might as well, since they're having dinner." 

"I think the Happy Meal wore off," Parker says. 

"You know it doesn't actually make you happy, right?" Eliot says, tipping his head toward her.

"I don't know, baby, you seemed downright cheerful there for a while." Hardison rests his chin on the other shoulder of the seat. "Before you disappeared on us. We all know you didn't need to spend that much time in the brew pub kitchen. That menu sells already."

"That was weeks ago," Eliot growls. "I had things to do. Anyway, ain't no happy in the world that lasts that long."

"It makes me really sad that you think that," Hardison says. 

"Life ain't always kind," Eliot grumbles.

"Still," Parker says. "Not sure about a Happy Meal not making you happy. It worked before." 

"We're going to McDonald's," Eliot says in resignation.

"We're going to McDonald's!" Parker cheers.

"You know there's better food back at the hotel," Eliot points out. "Or Hardison could find us a restaurant with his internet wizardry." 

"Yeah, but I want you to be happy," Parker says. "Happy Meal. Happy Eliot."

"She has a point," Hardison says. "Me, I'd love to let you order me something at some kind of place that calls itself an establishment, because it would be a hell of a lot better than Micky D's finest fare, but who knows how much time we have?"

"Probably a lot," Eliot says. "They're at a nice restaurant, where people serve you things and food takes a while."

"They might have to leave in a hurry," Hardison says.

"People serve you at McDonald's," Parker says. "Sometimes. If it's a little town and things are slow. Anyway, it's good, because then we'll be close to the highway but far from the building where the bad things are happening." She spots the golden arches and takes the next exit. "See?" 

The McDonald's has a PlayPlace. Parker parks the car in the spot closest to the exit and almost skips through the door. The job is going well, Eliot's going to be happy, and there's a PlayPlace. What a day. 

"No shoes!" Hardison calls, and Parker kicks her shoes into a cubby before crawling into the suspended tubes. It smells like plastic and feet, but it's comforting. She watches Hardison and Eliot through one of the plastic bubbles. 

"What do you want?" Hardison asks her.

"Nuggets," Parker decides. "And fries. And a drink."

"You could just say you want the value meal," Eliot grumbles. "Like anybody doesn't want fries." 

"I knew you agreed some things are better together," Parker says. 

"Is this another weird Parker life lesson?" Eliot asks. "About goddamn Happy Meals?"

"The Happy Meal's happy because it has all the right pieces." Parker crawls through the tunnel on her elbows. 

"Uh huh," Eliot says. 

"There's a beefy part," Parker says, "a part that can fit through small spaces, and a sweet part."

"Aww, am I the sweet part?" Hardison asks. "That's nice. I thought I was gonna be the fries because I'm tall."

"Sometimes you're the beefy part and Eliot's the sweet part," Parker clarifies. "But mostly not." 

"What about the damn toy?" Eliot asks. 

"That's the money," Parker says. "Duh."

"Obviously," Hardison says. "The money's the fun part." 

"Obviously nothing," Eliot growls, and then goes all reasonable. Parker can sort of see that they've reached the counter. He orders a quarter pounder meal. Hardison adds another and then the nugget meal for Parker, and a couple of Happy Meal on top of it. He pays in cash. They have to be extra careful, mid-job. Hardison's covers are flawless, but no reason to risk their identities on a burger. 

"Obviously nothing," Eliot continues. "Y'all act like you've got one brain just because you're dating."

"Uh, ma'am?" says an employee. A teenager, Parker thinks, but she's not sure: the hat and the t-shirt probably make them look younger than they are. Fast food worker is a good disguise - she realizes she can't remember the face of a single person who's taken her order in a fast food chain, only the uniform. She files that away for later. "The PlayPlace is for children. Under twelve. Um. Please." 

"I used to be twelve," Parker tells them. They just look at her in mute appeal. 

"Fine," Parker says, and wiggles out of the plastic tubes. She puts her shoes back on and meets Hardison and Eliot by the car. Eating in the car means a faster getaway and less time spent on surveillance cameras. She can tell Eliot wants to drive, because Eliot always wants to drive, but he doesn't argue with her. Hardison climbs back into the back and passes her a soda as she turns the key in the ignition. 

"Root beer," he says.

She sips at it. "Mm. Did you get me sweet and sour sauce?"

"You know I did even though that's disgusting," Hardison tells her lovingly. He hands her the bag. She digs around in it and fishes out the box of nuggets and the little container of sauce. Hardison and Eliot are popping open their burger boxes. 

"Hardison and I don't have one brain," Parker says, dunking a nugget.

"I thought we'd moved on from that," Eliot says.

"We just both know what's fun," Parker continues, ignoring him.

"That's right, we do," Hardison says. "We have come to agreement on some things that are fun. On some points, like tossing me off a building, we still have some differences of opinion."

"I know what's fun," Eliot objects. 

"Bar fights?" Hardison asks.

"Sleeping with models," Parker suggests. "No, sleeping with people who want to kill you. Oooh, sleeping with models who want to kill you."

"Insulting a man's beer," Hardison adds. "Football. Bar fights about football. Driving ugly cars."

"Hey now," Eliot says.

"Ooh, figuring out how to stab or otherwise incapacitate people with everyday objects just in case," Parker says. 

"Tell me I don't know how to play poker," Hardison says. "Taking all my money at poker."

"Probably strip poker," Parker says. "Strip poker with models who want to kill you."

"All of that is actually fun," Eliot says, trying not to smile. 

"See, we know how you think too," Hardison says. He pointed at his head. "You're all up in this shared brainspace."

"You're just fun to tease," Parker tells him, dunking another nugget. "You coil up like a rattlesnake. Hisssssss." 

Eliot grunts. 

"Hours of entertainment," Hardison agrees. "Very dangerous, though." He bites into his burger, chews, and swallows. "She's right, though. You're part of this value meal. One might even say an invaluable part."

"Yeah, we're a team," Eliot says.

"We're not just a team," Parker says. 

"I'm not talking about the team," Hardison says. "The team's its own thing. I do not share a brain with Nathan Ford. Can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing, honestly, but the fact remains."

"Sophie's not a French fry," Parker says. "It's different. They're like their own meal."

"Like biscuits and gravy," Hardison said. "Two things that are inseparable. Not three." 

Eliot snorted. "You're saying I'm an inseparable part of this." He gestures between them. "This being your relationship." 

"I guess that's what I'm saying," Hardison says. "I really thought we established this the last time we talked about Happy Meals, but apparently it didn't stick, because now we have to have this conversation in the car, which is less than ideal. But two steps forward, two steps back, as the saying goes. It is a natural fact."

"Are you seriously quoting Paula Abdul right now," Eliot asks the ceiling of the car.

"Maybe we needed to be more direct," Parker says. She points at Eliot. "You baby. Us baby. Remember?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Eliot tells them. "I'm not either of your baby as far as I know. In fact, y'all being each other's babies kind of rules that out."

"Man, you are a sophisticated kind of guy," Hardison says. "I don't believe you're not getting this."

"Eliot, are you seriously dense?" Sophie says suddenly. "Did he get hit in the head again?"

"No, I didn't get hit in the head," Eliot says. 

"Is it me?" Hardison asks. "Is it the whole oh-no-there's-a-dude-involved thing because I have not been able to suss out your feelings about that but I'm kind of leaning toward that's not it because you've definitely been flirting with me for the past however many years." 

"He definitely has," Sophie puts in.

"I thought you were at dinner," Parker says. 

"I slipped out to powder my nose," Sophie says. "And then I heard all this finally happening. Couldn't help myself."

"Finally?" Eliot says. "What are you talking about, finally?"

"Nothing," Sophie says. "Progress here. How are things on your end? Haven't heard any screaming or sirens or any of that, although am I wrong to anticipate some raised voices very soon?"

"No," Eliot says, scowling. "I mean, yes. Nobody's gonna be raising their voice about anything. Everything's fine." 

"We're all fine here," Hardison says. "Hey, enjoy your dinner."

"It is slightly better than a Big Mac," Sophie says, "but such are the sacrifices we must make for the work." 

"Rub it in," breathes Eliot. 

"You're happy," Parker says.

"Oh yeah?" Eliot says. "Tell me more about myself."

"Okay," she says. "Even though you've been kind of avoiding us lately, you are actually happy sitting in this car eating bad fast food with us, because you like us. I'm pretty sure you love us, but maybe that's not something you think about too much. And I don't think you have a problem with Hardison being Hardison, because otherwise, you would have just said no instead of pretending you didn't know what we were talking about, because you are actually good at people. Almost as good as Sophie." 

"Look at the mastermind in training," Eliot says, but it's not harsh like it could be. He won't look at them. Parker hates when he won't look at them. Eliot's always seen her for exactly who she is. It hurts when he won't meet her eyes, like she's not the person he wants to be looking at.

"You know it's okay to like us," Hardison says. 

"Of course I like y'all," Eliot says. 

"Oh, okay," Hardison says. "You like us. That far and no further, huh? That's fine."

"How much further do you want me to go?" Eliot asks. 

"Eliot," Parker says. Her nuggets are getting cold, but she doesn't care. "Baby." 

"What do y'all want me to do?" Eliot asks. 

"I mean, best case scenario," Hardison says, looking at Parker, "declare your love for us and kiss our faces off?"

"In the middle of a job? Well, that ain't happenin'," Eliot says, his accent getting thicker.

"You can imagine my relief," Nate says.

"Your turn to powder your nose?" Hardison asks. 

"So to speak," Nate says. "Stay ready, please."

"We're ready," Hardison assures him. Parker revs the engine just to prove it.

"Good to know," Nate says.

"Any time," Eliot says. "Now, even. Let's finish this job and go home."

"That ain't happening here or that ain't happening ever?" Parker pushes.

"Do not say 'ain't'," Eliot growls. "You're not country enough to pull it off."

"It's a good question that you're avoiding," Hardison says. "We didn't mean to bring it up in the middle of a job, but you know, sometimes these things happen. There hasn't really been another opportunity, since you've been keeping yourself scarce."

"I haven't flirted with you that much," Eliot grumbles.

"I distinctly recall you threatening to kiss me at the end of the very first job we all did together," Hardison says patiently. "It's kind of snowballed from there."

"You call him 'my man' a lot," Parker says. "I don't know why that's different than 'baby'."

"It's kind of more specific than 'baby'," Hardison says. "If it comes down to that. I mean, baby, that's universal. Could be anybaby. 'My man' is possessive."

"How is it..." Eliot starts, and then frowns. "You know what? I do like y'all. Both of y'all. This is not how or when I wanted to do this, but it's the truth."

"Ooh!" Sophie says, and Parker suspects it's not about the crème brûlée. 

"I've liked y'all a long time," Eliot says, "but why the hell would I say anything about it? Y'all have your own thing going." 

"Once again, you're a worldly kinda guy," Hardison says. "You don't think we could have worked that out?"

"Hell, I'm worldly," Eliot says. "You might be worldly. Parker's in her own world."

"I'm part of your world," Parker says. 

Eliot looks like he's about to say something, but then he sighs. "Yeah. You are." 

"So then you agree," Hardison says. "Inseparable." 

"This is not how I thought this would go," Eliot mutters.

"You and us both," Hardison says. 

"I really thought there would be more kissing," Parker says. All this relationship stuff is still kind of beyond her, apparently. 

"Forget kissing, how about a ride," Nate murmurs unexpectedly. "Things might be about to go a direction I did not anticipate in New Revised Backup Plans A through F."

"Plan G," Parker says, and they're out of the parking lot and back on the road. She stuffs a few fries into her mouth. They're mostly cold, but at least they're salty.

They collect Nate and Sophie, who pile in next to Hardison in a tumble of fancy clothes and nice perfume. 

"The G in Plan G is for go, now," Nate says, in that calm-but-urgent tone he has when everything is about to hit the fan. 

They go. Parker finishes her nuggets on the way. Eliot holds the sauce for her and doesn't say anything. She smiles at him. He smiles back, but it doesn't get to his eyes. In the back seat, Sophie eats the fries from one of the Happy Meals. 

"Oh, look," she says, fishing the toys out. "You've only got two of the three. That's a shame."

"It really is," Hardison murmurs.

"One more and you could have had the complete set," Sophie goes on.

Eliot glares at her, but Sophie just smiles back with that knowing expression that Parker can almost kind of read sometimes. It seems to have a lot more meaning for Eliot. Parker quits trying to think about expressions and feelings and relationships and just drives. Driving is easier than people.

Back at the hotel, they toss the remnants of the food and pack, except for Eliot, who never seems to bring anything with him. It's a quick trip to the airport. Parker leaves the car in the parking lot. She pats it affectionately on the hood and slings her little backpack over her shoulder. She walks up next to Eliot as he waves off the shuttle bus into which Nate and Sophie have climbed. Hardison is on his other side, walking with an excessive casualness that Parker recognizes as his I-want-something walk.

"Y'all got me surrounded," Eliot observes.

"Just how we like it," Parker says cheerfully.

"I bet," Eliot says. 

"Why are you kicking so hard?" Hardison asks. "I thought we had an understanding after that Happy Meal." 

"We've been waiting for you to make some kind of move for weeks," Parker adds. "Then you moved away."

"I might be good with my fists, but I'm not so good with my heart," Eliot says. He squints into the sun. "Kinda got a reverse Midas touch. Any serious relationship I touch turns to shit. I'm not doing that to y'all. It was pretty to think about, but you have a good thing going."

"You're part of that good thing," Parker insists.

"You really are," Hardison says. "You're better at relationship stuff than either of us. Remember the cactus?"

"'Course I do," Eliot says.

"Our good thing wouldn't be anything at all if it weren't for you," Hardison continues. "So there goes your anti-Midas theory." 

"Hmph," Eliot says.

"There's nothing wrong with being happy," Parker says.

"Kinda got out of the habit, I guess," Eliot says, squinting again. 

"Fortunately for you, we're very understanding," Hardison says. "Parker and me, we get that a cowboy with a tanned leather heart like yours might need a few extra opportunities to get the old emotions all softened up and pliable again."

"It's kind of ironic," Parker says, "because you have a lot of feelings. It's just that most of them are anger when they could be smoochy instead."

"Dammit, Parker," Eliot says, but it comes out pretty mild. "I don't go around dictating your emotions." 

"Maybe you need a trial period," Hardison says as they cross into the parking lot closest to the terminal. "Thirty days, no-questions-asked returns. If you haven't destroyed us in a month, we're yours to keep."

Eliot snorts. "Y'all think you're cute."

"We know we're cute," Hardison says with a grin. "And we know you think so too."

"Thirty days, huh?" Eliot asks.

"Thirty days of being our boyfriend," Parker says. "And you have to do boyfriend stuff."

"Boyfriend stuff includes, but is not limited to, enjoying our company, having dinner with us a few times a week, kissing us good night, et cetera."

"Kissing us good morning," Parker puts in. "I mean if you're there you might as well."

"Yeah, just kind of some kissing distributed through the day would be nice," Hardison says. 

"This is a bad idea," Eliot tells them, but there's a smile tugging at his lips. 

"You don't have to buy us presents or anything," Parker says. "Although if you do, my favorite color is green."

"You think I don't know what your favorite color is?" Eliot asks.

Parker shrugs. 

"Anyway, you sign up for the Eliot boyfriend experience, you get all the perks," Eliot says. "They'll include presents if I feel like giving you presents." 

"Now he's threatening us," Hardison says to Parker.

"Yeah, but I like it," Parker tells him. 

They reach the terminal. The plan is to split up through security, pretend not to know each other at the gate, and sit separately on the flight. It's not ideal, but it helps them avoid surveillance. They've upset a lot of people with a long reach lately. Eliot grabs Hardison and pulls him into one of those big back-thumping Eliot hugs and then leans back kisses him square on the mouth. Hardison makes a little noise of surprise and then kisses back. Parker just watches, and the funny thing is that she doesn't feel jealous at all. Eliot lets him go, radiating smugness. 

"I'm gonna miss you too, buddy," Hardison says, grinning. "We'll see each other before too long, though."

"Had to tide you over," Eliot says. 

Parker taps Eliot on the shoulder.

"My turn," she says, and he wraps her up in his arms. His body doesn't feel like Hardison's, but he gives her the same sensation of _home_ that she feels when Hardison holds her. He kisses her too, and it's nice. She looks over his shoulder at Hardison and Hardison's just smiling. 

"You're right," she tells Eliot. "I should have just said I wanted the value meal a while ago." 

"Best bang for your buck," he tells her. 

"Oh, of course, you're gonna act like this was all your idea," Hardison pretends to grumble. 

"Part of the boyfriend package, baby," Eliot says, and strolls into the terminal. Even the way he walks is smug. 

"He says it different," Parker observes.

"He definitely does," Hardison agrees.

"I like it," Parker decides. 

"I think this is gonna work out fine," Hardison tells Parker.

"Me too," she says. 

He puts his arm around her and gives her a quick kiss. "See you later?"

"Count on it," she says, and turns her back, kneeling to look through her bag. She gives him a count of ten before she pulls out a tube of mint-flavored balm and applies it to her lips. She strides into the airport terminal with a bounce in her step. She's about to be richer by a few hundred thousand dollars and one boyfriend. It's a good day.


End file.
